I slept terribly last night. I woke up a million times, 3 in which my heart raced me awake, and I’m trying not to think along the lines of “what if.” What if I never get better? What if the month I spent on 88s has permanently screwed me up? Is that even possible? I have suffered more during the last year and a half than probably all of my life combined. How and why has my health taken such an incredible hit? When will I ever get back to myself for good? Will this ever even happen? I never would have guessed in my wildest dreams that I would go from poverty to unhealthy, but if I can just get my medication regulated again, then I shouldn’t be unhealthy. I guess I am just recovering from the effects of the 88s. I sure hope that’s all it is, but as Tom reminded me, menopause and me just worrying about it could also be factors. 

The only thing that was different with this morning was that my heart didn’t beat as fast and hard or for as long. I didn’t have to get up and take anything for it. Right before one of the times it raced, I felt this weird feeling in my head. I just worry I’m never going to be normal again, and that if I am, it won’t last long. I have, however, felt fine since I’ve been up and I did well last night, too. 

I don’t remember her name but in a makeup article I stumbled across written by a model in her 60s, she not only provided some very helpful sensible tips, but she’s a reminder that not every older woman with gray hair looks like shit. I agree that less is more when we get older. If I were to wear my make-up like I did in my 20s I would look like a total clown. She said that lipstick should match the inner lip or the gum, a little mascara is okay, don’t try to get your eyebrows to look like they did in their 20s, and use liquid foundation instead of powder because powder adds texture where texture has already built up. She also said that this might be hard, but skip the eyeshadow. That one’s definitely hard. I can do everything else, but I love my sparkly eyeshadow. 

I had a dream I was walking through a very big apartment building that seemed more like a hotel. Christmas music was playing from speakers in the hallway ceiling. I approached someone’s door with two other people, and then a split second later I was outdoors talking to a very attractive Austrian woman. I pointed to some other woman and said, “That woman is a real Verrukte.” That means crazy woman. Then the woman from Austria puked.